


Strained Feelings

by Cherry_Art



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Blood Tears, Canon Compliant, Comfort, Coughing Blood, F/M, Feelings, Fluff, Kissing, Lazy Mornings, M/M, Memories, Memory Loss, Original Character(s), Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Panic Attacks, Plague, Red Plague (The Arcana), Siblings, The Lazaret (The Arcana), The Rowdy Raven Tavern (The Arcana), Vesuvia (The Arcana), plague symptoms, soft, trigger warning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-12-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 8,873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23506870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cherry_Art/pseuds/Cherry_Art
Summary: All of my Arcana drabbles in order in one book! Updated whenever I spontaniously decide to write something.
Relationships: Apprentice/Asra (The Arcana), Apprentice/Julian Devorak
Kudos: 20





	1. Honey Mornings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra and Asra enjoy a calm, lazy morning at home.

The sun casts shadows on the wooden floor as it streams through the window, highlighting the dust mites floating in the air. It’s probably well past midday, yet neither shop keep is awake. The two familiars were the only ones awake, and even they were being less rowdy than normal. 

Resting in the sun, their scales and fur seemed to hold a soft glow as light reflects from them. Faust had draped herself lazily over her fox friend, head resting over his. Frost was stretched out on the floor, seemingly enjoying the slow morning. 

Alya gradually begins to stir, turning over and snuggling closer against Asra. Pressing her nose against his neck, she breathes in deeply, sighing softly as his familiar scent washes over her. A smile touches her lips as a soft chuckle rumbles through his chest, pressing her lips gently against his honey-kissed skin. “Good morning to you too.” His voice is playful, but soft and gravelly from sleep. 

She opens her violet eyes to meet his matching lavender ones, smile growing at the fondness she sees there. “Morning Sunflower.” Alya’s voice is soft as she uses her favorite nickname for the white-haired magician, reaching a hand up to comb through Asra’s unruly curls. He sighs indulgently and leans into her touch, eyes sliding shut once more. She runs a hand through his hair as the other rubs over his cheek, then down to his neck, and continuing down to his chest. 

After a moment, the sound of claws skittering on the floor and the cold sensation of scales breaks the two out of their bubble. Giggling, Alya gently untangles Faust from her untamable pink curls, allowing her to curl around her wrist. Asra had begun to scratch Frost behind the ears when the white fox had jumped into his lap, smiling and shaking his head fondly. “Were you two jealous?” Alya teases the two familiars as they switch places, now with their respective magician. Faust flicks her tongue and Frost looks at her in a way that seems to ask, “Are you serious?” 

“Don’t worry, we didn’t forget about you guys.” Asra chuckles and gives Faust some light scratches under her chin. After a moment, he allows her to slip over his shoulder and rest gently around his neck. Stretching, Asra begins to leave the pile of pillows and blankets on the bed. Alya starts to follow a moment later, having to coax her familiar into getting up. 

When she stands and allows the blanket to slip from her bare form, her cheeks flush when she catches Asra in the doorway, staring with a coy smirk on his lips. “I know I’m pretty, but there’s no need to stare.” Alya teases Asra as she presses her bare feet to the wood beneath her, shivering. Asra makes a final comment over his shoulder as he walks out of the room, “I think I would stare at anyone who had marks as noticeable as yours.” 

Eyes widening, Alya hurries to the mirror on the bedside table, groaning when she sees hickeys and love bites covering her entire body, along with her normal spattering of freckles. “Asra..!” She draws out his name as she begins to get dressed, cursing the chuckle that carries up the stairs.


	2. Shattered Silence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alya wakes up from an awful nightmare and can't find Asra, causing her to have a panic attack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: if you are sensitive to the topic of panic attacks, I suggest you read with caution!

Labored breathing fills the air, the only sound shattering the silence that had suspended the otherwise pleasant morning. 

Shaking, Alya sits in fetal position, her tumble of hair falling over her shoulders. A few tears escape her eyes and slide down her cheeks, dripping onto her bare thighs. Taking in a shuddering breath, Alya tries calming herself, which only causes her panic to increase. 

Now audibly wheezing, the magician’s tears increase in intensity, sobbing uncontrollably as her chest tightens. Throat constricting, Alya’s vision goes blurry as she begins feeling more lightheaded, hands and legs shaking. Squeezing her eyes shut further, Alya wills the images to go away, though it’s futile. 

Jolting, Alya gasps and jerks away when she feels a gentle hand on her back, shaking her head and sobbing harder. The hand leaves, but a voice penetrates the white noise that had slowly been filling her head. It’s foggy, but it’s unmistakably Asra’s familiar voice. “Take deep breaths, in through your nose and out through your mouth.” 

He gently coaxes Alya into a proper sitting position, allowing air to fill her lungs with less restraint. After a few times of her having even worse trouble breathing, Alya finally manages to breath mostly normally with the patient guidance of Asra’s voice, though a few tears continue to trickle down her cheeks. 

Whimpering softly, Alya turns to Asra and wraps her arms around him tightly. Gently rubbing soothing circles into his lover’s back, Asra murmurs small words of encouragement and love into her skin. Sniffling, Alya keeps her arms around Asra until she falls asleep. 

Asra picks her up and gently carries her to their shared bed, lying beside her and holding her in his arms. He presses a soft kiss to her forehead and murmurs an, “I love you.” He stays with her on the bed, pulling some blankets up around them. Frost and Faust move onto the bed as well, the purple snake coiling loosely around her arm as the small white fox nuzzles into her side. They had known to keep away from Alya when she was having her attack, but now were staying as close as possible. 

Asra stays with Alya in the bed until she wakes up again, not making the mistake of leaving her alone another time this morning.


	3. You're a Thorn in my Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra and Alya fight before he leaves Vesuvia, leaving them both heartbroken.

“No, Asra! I’m not leaving. There are still people here that need saving, we’re close to finding a cure-” Asra’s voice cuts her argument short. “Alya, there is no cure! You’ve been saying you’re close to a breakthrough for the past five weeks, with absolutely no results. This isn’t healthy, you’ve been staying up late and barely getting any sleep! You rarely touch your food and you haven’t bathed in weeks. You’re destroying yourself over a cure that you’ll never find!” His outburst ends in an emotional shout. It was tearing him up to see the love of his life hurting, all over a stupid cure that they were nowhere close to finding. Alya flinches as if he had struck her, and guilt momentarily washes over the magician, though falls into frustration when she begins to argue with him again. “We are close,” she hisses, irritation flaring inside her. Weeks of barely getting any sleep or substantial food had gotten to her, every day for the past few weeks ending with infuriatingly little results. “You just can’t see it beside you’re so stuck in your perfect little world with the Magician every other day, getting away because you’re too selfish to face the real world!” Her voice edges on delusional towards the end, weeks' worth of frustration and sleep deprivation raising her irritability and shortening her patience. Her words cut deep into him, as if she had physically cut him with the knife that she held precious. He tries being patient with her, even as bitter hurt eats at his sides. “Alya, you know I go to the Magician’s realm to practice magic. I would be here all the time with you if I could, but I need to practice.” He takes a step towards her and tries placing a hand on her shoulder, but she smacks it away and steps back. “No, that’s just an excuse! You seem really good at coming up with those lately,” she spats bitterly, sneering at him. “Alya, we don’t have time for this!” He barely keeps his emotions at bay, holding onto his last shred of patience. “Please, leave with me. Let’s leave Vesuvia, we can be safe together!” Her voice cuts in immediately, raw emotion showing through. “And leave all the sick to rot? That may be who you are, Asra, but that’s not how I do things.” The way she says his name feels so foreign, and unfamiliar coldness gripping the edges of her voice. “I’m staying here with Ilya and finding a cure.” Emotions flicker over her dulled purple eyes, long since lost their youthful shine of innocence. Each word she speaks feels like another stab in his side, dug deeper in with her hurtful eyes and emotions. “Are you...really going to stay here with Ilya and risk catching the plague over leaving with me and being safe...? Please Alya, love, come with me and leave Vesuvia. I couldn’t bear to see the one I love most die in front of me when there’s something I can do about it.” The hurt, betrayal, and desperation ring clear in his voice, breath shallower than what can be considered normal. His words cut deeply into her heart, and she lets the pain fuel her anger, frustrated tears welling up in her eyes. “Then just leave! It’s not like it’ll be much different, you’re gone all the time anyway!” Her voice raises, almost at shouting level now. She turns away quickly so he wouldn’t see the tear rolling down her cheek, running over her heart shaped mark he always loved to kiss or tease her about. With finality, she deals one final blow to her lover, far too upset to care how low she was hitting. “I’ll have Ilya to keep me company. At least he’s always there, he’s never left me alone since I’ve met him.” With that she walks back inside the palace, emotions spilling down her cheeks in hot tears. Her curls hang limply against her back, dirty and tangled from lack of care, and her skin seems much sallower than it had before, freckles standing out even more profoundly. Asra found himself missing her already, being able to have light conversation at the dinner table, or waking her up on slow days by kissing each of her freckles, giving special attention to the one shaped like a heart on her right cheek. Swallowing thickly, he turns away and lets the tears roll down his cheeks freely as he walks away from the palace. He makes his way slowly back to the shop, memories flashing through his mind. He walks in and up the steps, collapsing on the bed. Every object of hers he passes sends another pang through him, causing the swords to go just a bit deeper into his sides. He cries into the blankets and pillows, and even breathing causes his heart to hurt, as every shaky inhale causes her scent to permeate his senses. Each breath is another thorn in his heart, each memory a deeper stab of the pain that fills him, rooting deeply in his heart.


	4. Confusion, Desire and Anxiety

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alya and Julian go to the Rowdy Raven for a couple drinks one night they finished work early. Maybe they shouldn't have had so many Salty Bitters.

Shivering, Alya stumbles to Julian’s desk with papers in her trembling hands. It was time for her to turn in her recordings for the day, about an hour before she left for her room at the palace. Julian always left about another three hours after her, dead set on finding a cure. He worked himself to the bone, researching and experimenting until he physically couldn’t anymore, and his body gave out from exhaustion. She stops by his desk to see the usual sight of the doctor hunched over his desk, one hand tangled in his hair in frustration at the scant results they were getting. They seemed to be no closer to a cure than they had before, Julian seemed to be getting paler by the day. Alya wasn’t much better herself, her usually tanned skin now sallow and almost sickly looking, pink curls limp and stringy down her back. “I have the recordings for today Ilya.” He takes a moment before looking up at his apprentice, giving a strained smile. “Thank you my dear, right on time as always. It’s always a relief to know that I can count on you to be a diligent worker.” He gives her knuckles a soft kiss as he grabs the papers before turning back to his work. Alya coughs a few times, covering her mouth with her fist. She clears her throat once the coughing dies down and turns to face Julian again. “Is there anything I can work on tonight? You look like you could use some help.” She pulls a chair up next to him and sits, giving a triumphant smile as he hands her a small stack of papers. He had long since learned not to argue with her about letting her help, though he does so reluctantly. “You already help so much; I hate to give you more work. You should be resting at the palace...” His complaints slowly die down as he falls back into a comfortable silence, working beside his apprentice. Alya sorts through the papers, an occasional cough interrupting her before she gets back to work. Julian was too focused on his work to notice how his apprentice had slowly begun coughing more, the sound only gaining his attention when she reaches to take a sip of water from her flask. “Something in your throat, dear?” He refuses to even entertain the thought of it being anything other than just that. She swallows and nods, answering. “Yes, I think so. Sorry to bother you Ilya, I’ll get back to work now.” “Ah, you’re no bother Alya.” He ignores the way his heart rate increases slightly when she says his name, instead choosing to turn back to the small stack of papers left in front of him, hoping that she hadn’t seen the light flush on his cheeks. She snorts gently but says nothing else, keeping true to her word and getting back to work. Within the next few hours she’ll bug Julian for more work, having already finished what he had previously given to work. He’ll comply and complain about how she works too hard, both going back to companionable silence as they get back to working on papers. After a few hours they finish the stack Julian had in front of him and Alya grins, though her smile just barely doesn’t reach her eyes. “Say, we finished a bit early tonight. How’s you say we go and get a drink at the Rowdy Raven?” Julian fixes her with a nervous gaze. “Ah, are you asking me on a date, Dear Alya?” A sly grin slides onto his face as he sees her pale cheeks warm with blush, features highlighted from the warm flickering candlelight. She doesn’t meet his gaze as she replies, doing her best to hide the bitterness the question causes her, shaking her thoughts away from white hair and violet eyes. “And what if I am?” She turns back to him with a more confident air about her, leaning closer to his face, lips turned up in a silent challenge. He flushes but doesn’t back down, moving closer. Lips almost touching, he answers her challenge with a confident grin of his own. “Then I’d be delighted to join you for a few Salty Bitters.” Her grin grows, a sliver of teeth showing as she pulls away, “Then we should get going before it becomes too late, doctor.” Alya doesn’t even bother to hide the fact that she’s taunting Julian, teasing him with the name she knows he hates. He bites his bottom lip, raising an eyebrow. He doesn’t mention it though, moving to follow her. “You’re very right, we shouldn’t wait any longer.” He straightens up his desk a bit and grabs his overcoat, slipping it on as he walks outside and closes the door. He struggles with the buttons for a moment before Alya giggles and steps in front of him, buttoning up the front. His pulse jolts when he feels her hand brush over the exposed skin on his chest as she secures his jacket, fingers freezing. “There.” She steps away. “You always have such trouble fastening your clothes, it’s a wonder that you’re such a qualified doctor.” She teases him good naturedly, a playful smirk growing on her face. He huffs, laughing softly. “You’re right, what would I ever do without you my dear?” He flashes a grin as they start to walk beside each other, on the road to their shared favorite tavern in the town. Once they reach their destination, Julian holds the door open for her, which causes her to giggle and thank him dramatically with a curtsy. Both fall into a quick giggle fit as they walk in, going straight to their usual table in the back-right corner of the cozy bar. Alya sits on one side of the table as Julian goes to order the drinks. She finds herself watching his profile as he talks, eyes stuck on following his lips as he talks. Once she catches herself she quickly looks away, a flush creeping up her neck. She startles as Julian sits in front of her, heart beating quicker. She quickly masks it with a smile, taking the flagon from him and taking a sip of her drink. Her face screws up at the bitterness of the drink, though she quickly gets used to it. She sets it down and looks to see that Julian had already finished half of his, raising an eyebrow. “You should drink slower; you’re going to become drunk far too quickly. You should know this, doctor.” She once again puts emphasis on the word, continuing her teasing. He huffs in indignation. “That was one time Alya, surely you can’t fault me for that?” He gives a defiant grin as he takes another long swig, causing his companion to groan. “I’m not looking forward to dragging you home again.” He chuckles and sets his glass down, which is now over half empty. “That wasn’t so bad. I quite enjoyed it.” She rolls her eyes, though the smile she’s flutily trying to hide gives her away. “Maybe not for you; you’re not the one who had to practically carry a giant back to his house.” Their playful banter continues as they continue drinking, turning into giggling fits after the first three or four drinks down. In the middle of one of Julian’s stories, Alya finds her eyes captured by his lips again, unable to look away. She only manages out of her trance once she hears Julian calling her name. “Alya, dear, are you alright? You were spacing out for a little there.” She waves his concerns off, glad for the alcohol that masked the flush of her cheeks. “Yeah, I’m fine. Something just caught my eye.” Julian raises an eyebrow in interest. “Oh? What’s so interesting that it distracted you from my dashing tale?” His eyes sparkle with mischief and alcohol as he teases his apprentice. “Your lips.” Her eyes widen as the word leaves her lips, clamping a hand over her mouth. His eyes widen and a blush turns his cheeks pink, and Alya’s quick to correct herself. “I-I meant that you had something on your lips! I got distracted because you had something on your lips.” Her response is rushed and not fully believable, and though his cheeks flame, he can’t pass up the chance to fluster Alya even more. “Are you sure my dear? If you wanted to, I’d let you get a... closer look at my lips, since you seem so interested.” The cocky smirk on his lips made it clear that he didn’t believe she would take him up on his offer, which she took as a challenge. She leans in close, humming in satisfaction at the surprised look crossing his face. Once Alya’s close enough to smell the alcohol on his breath, she whispers, “If you're quite sure you want me to, Ilya, then I’d be happy to get a much, much closer look.” He gulps nervously, though the desire shows clear in his gaze as she meets his eyes. “Yes, oh please Alya, I’ll let you get as close as you want.” Without another word her lips crash into his, pressing firmly. He groans softly into the kiss as her hands move to the back of his head, hand tugging at the hair on the nape of his neck. The taste of alcohol moves between the two as Alya deepens the kiss, biting at Julian’s bottom lip. He moans into her mouth, lips parting eagerly. They only part when they need to catch their breath, breaths coming in shallow pants. Julian’s eyes stay half lidded, a barely contained desire swimming in his eyes. He bites his lip as he stares at Alya, obviously wanting more. She pulls away though, a deep pink flush on her cheeks and neck. She refuses to meet his eyes as she wipes her mouth. A tense silence hangs over the two before Alya speaks, beginning to get up. “I- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have...” She trails off, different emotions filtering over her features, Julian stays frozen in shock, only able to shake himself out of his stupor once Alya speaks up again. “I should probably get going, it’s getting late.” Julian stands up as she starts to leave. “Wait, Alya-” She cuts him off quickly. “Goodnight Doctor, it was a lovely evening. Be safe getting home.” On that note she hurries out of the tavern, leaving Julian confused, alone, and anxious.


	5. Jumbled, Anguished Thoughts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alya wakes up and begins working, having ignored Julian for the past two days. She begins feeling unwell and comes to a harrowing conclusion.

Curled up in bed, Alya’s shivering had gotten worse. She felt too cold, but when she had the blanket on it was as if her skin was on fire. It was tormenting how she was never able to get comfortable, always just a few degrees too hot or cold. 

Groaning softly, she slowly sits up and eases herself out of bed, leaning against the wall as a dizzy spell overcomes her. After a moment her vision sharpens again and she’s able to walk, moving slowly over to her wardrobe to get into her clothes. The white skirt and off shoulder white shirt slip on easily, light fabric gliding over her skin. Her shaking fingers fumble with her corset belt though, struggling for a moment before managing to clasp it around her waist. It slips slightly and she tightens it, realizing that she had become thinner since working with Julian to find a cure for the Red Plague. 

With a huff she exits the room after tugging on her boots and slipping on the white plague mask they had to wear. The familiar scent of herbs puts her momentarily at ease as she clasps the beaked mask around her face, walking to the dungeons below the palace. She’s thankful not to run into anyone on her way, slipping into the library unnoticed. 

She pulls the correct books and walks through the secret tunnels, entrance sliding shut behind her. She walks down the stairs, boots clicking on the slightly damp stone. Once she gets to the elevator, she stops as a coughing fit comes over her. Once her throat clears she inserts the key, unlocking the lift and getting in. The grate shuts behind her and her vision blurs slightly as she starts moving down, though clears quickly once it stops moving. 

She steps out and doesn’t stay to watch the elevator go back up, instead heading straight into the dungeon, which had been made into an experimentation area, as well as doubling as offices for the doctors working there. 

Alya goes to her office in the back, ignoring the test subjects and cages, the tables and tools. She had long since been conditioned to the environment, barely even noticing the scent of rot and infection coming from the plague affected patients and test subjects. 

Opening the wooden door to her office, Alya’s mind finally catches up to her body, fully awake. Thoughts of two nights ago fill her head before she can stop them, the memory of how his lips felt on hers branded into her mind. Face flushing, she shakes the thoughts away and moves to sit at her desk. It wouldn’t help her to think of that now; being distracted wasn’t helping her get any closer to a cure. 

Beginning to work, Alya starts an entry on a piece of parchment as she does experiments, trying different methods of trying to combat the plague. Recording her findings, she groans in frustration when she comes up with nothing, sending her into another coughing fit. 

After a minute she manages to stop, taking deep breaths. As she gets back to work, her skin begins to heat up to uncomfortable levels, which was unusual considering she was in the basement where it was cool. Frowning, she moves to get up to get a drink of water but becomes overcome by dizziness, gripping onto her desk to keep from falling. Once steady she begins to slowly walk out of her office, now shivering. 

At this point Alya knew something was very wrong. She had suspected for a while but hadn’t been sure, chalking it up to what had happened with Julian before. Now she feels a growing dread that it’s something else, and something much worse. Moving to a table in the back of the room, Alya picks up her flask and undoes her mask as she takes a shaky sip, spilling a bit over her lip. She hastily wipes it away and secures her mask again, replacing her flask in its place. She decides to leave the dungeon for a bit to get some fresh air, glancing at the door to Julian’s office before tearing her gaze away and hurrying into the hall immediately outside the room. 

Stepping into the elevator, she clutches the wall as it lurches up, unsteady. Alya sighs in relief once the golden lift stops moving, stepping out and unfastening her beaked plague mask from around her face. Moving up the steps and out of the library, Alya sighs softly in relief, though it causes her to be violently tossed into another coughing fit. 

Once she momentarily recovers, she begins walking through the palace corridors towards the front door. She silently thanks no one for being around as she walks out of the building, walking towards the fountain. Once satisfied that no one else is around she walks to the grand fountain made of stone and marble, sitting along the edge of the bottom lip of the structure. She looks down at her reflection distractedly, only breaking away from her thoughts when she catches something unusual. 

She frowns as her eyes widen, leaning further down to get a better look. She freezes, eyes blown wide. Rubbing frantically at her eyes with balled fists, she wills her reflection to be back to normal when she opens them. Sorely disappointed and now almost in a panic, she stares unblinking at the red tint surrounding her iris where her eyes should be red. Alya stumbles back, jerking away from the fountain and causing herself to fall onto the plush grass. She quickly picks herself up and dashes back into the palace, though her steps are shaky and slightly uncoordinated. Desperately hoping that the red had just been due to lack of sleep was a fool’s wish, but she was frantic and not quite thinking straight. Securing her mask back over her face, she’s hyperaware of the state of her skin and eyes, the chalky pallor and red rimmed eyes telltale visuals of a plague victim. The other symptoms all added up now: loss of appetite, dizziness, violent coughing fits, random changes in tempurature. 

Alya hurries back down to the dungeon and into her office, locking the door. Her thoughts jumble, but one anguished thought stands out among the rest: “I think I have the plague.”


	6. Bloody Fingers, Lost Love, and Broken Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asra comes home from a long journey to find that things have taken a turn for the worst.

Taking a deep breath, Asra slowly pushes the door to the shop open, which he hadn’t been in for three full weeks. The space is covered in dust, grime coating every available surface. As the magician continues his way through the shop, his footsteps stir up resting dust on the ground. The shop seemed to be the exact same as he had left it, a snippet of time frozen. That can’t be right: Alya should be here at this time, running the shop. ...Maybe Ilya had her working late shifts? Asra shakes his head- that wouldn’t account for the grime buildup or the stale herbs. It looks like they hadn’t been changed since he left three weeks ago. Frown deepening, Asra calls out softly, “Alya? I’m sorry I was gone so long, and..and about the way I left. I just...needed to clear my head.” His dread grows as he gets only silence as a response, working his way through the first level of the shop. Finding no trace of his lover, he begins to walk up the steps to the shared living area. “Frost..?” The white haired magician tries a new tactic, calling out for the white fox that was Alya’s familiar. He always came to greet Asra when he came back from a trip, yet there wasn’t sight nor sound of the small animal. Swallowing thickly, Asra continues up the stair. Faust slithers around Asra’s shoulders, small purple head peeking out of his deep red scarf. “Friend?” Her voice sounds in his mind, excited at the mention of her friend’s name. Asra bites his lip before answering. “I don’t know Faust, I don’t think they’re here. Maybe they’re out...?” Asra was still trying to reassure himself, even as every step he takes stirs up dust, a sign of neglect. The small white fox was Alya’s familiar, as well as her best friend. They were inseparable, probably more so than even Asra and his own familiar Faust, a small purple snake. He would always eagerly come to greet Asra when coming back from a new journey, or when Alya would come home after taking a trip to the market. The fact that there hadn’t been a chirp out of him the whole time was worrying to Asra, his calloused hands gripping tightly at the strap of his bag in apprehension. He walks to his and Alya's shared bedroom, nerves strung taught. He does a quick once over on the living room and kitchen before walking to the bed, filled to the brim with warm blankets and stuffed creatures. He takes a deep breath and falters. Though it had gone stale, the scent of Alya was still there. Memories of the fight they had before he left filter through his mind all at once, of how the guilt had filled him to the brim, the hurt in her lilac eyes as she yanked herself away from him. The tears had burned him more than anything, the small drops of liquid gathering at the corner of her eyes before she could stop them, turning harshly away and leaving without a goodbye. Her last words to him had been branded into his mind, flashing bright whenever he closed his eyes: “If you want to leave then go, go like you always do. It won’t be any different than how it is now anyway. I’m staying, I’ll find a cure with Julian.” The hurt burns fresh, the guilt ripping gashes in his heart again. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before shaking his head; he could talk to her, try and make it right. He misses her so badly it hurts. Exhaling shakily, he turns back to the bed. Eyes widen as he sees something he hadn’t before: a small white lump on the bed. Dread bubbles to his throat as he walks closer, clearly seeing now that the lump was Frost. Holding his breath, he reaches a hand out and places it gently on the fox. A lump catches in his throat when he feels how cold Frost is, stiffened into a curling position. Faust slither off his arm and onto the bed beside the familiar, head resting on his fur. “Friend sleep?” Feeling tears well in his eyes, he kneels next to the bed. Not wanting to hurt his beloved familiar, he tells a half truth, the beautiful side of the catastrophe. “Yes Faust, Frost Is sleeping. He’s...he’ll be sleeping for a long time Faust, dreaming good dreams.” Faust tilts her head, tongue slipping out of her mouth slightly. “Good dreams?” He sniffles, offering a watery smile. “Yeah, good dreams. Of you, of me, of Alya, and Muriel too...” Asra wipes gently at the corner of his eye as a tear spills over. Did Alya know what had happened to her beloved familiar...? The thought of his lover causes an apprehension to begin rising in his throat, desperation and the sensation of heat washing over his body followed by the sense of wrongness, and a strange an unfamiliar emptiness. It takes him a moment to correlate the foreign feelings to Alya, though as soon as he does, he bolts upright. Listening to the sense of urgency he feels, Asra throws his stuff to the ground and barely says a rushed farewell to Faust, asking her to stay at the shop as he leaves the shop in haste, barely stopping to put a Cross-Me-Knot spell on the door being urgently following the feeling of distraught down to the docks. People were getting on boats, though very few were getting off. Asra steps up to an empty boat and hands him a few coins. The man rowing the boat gives him an odd look but doesn’t ask questions, simply begins rowing out onto the water. It feels like forever before the boat hits land again, stopping on black, ashen shores. A thin forest covers the front part of the island, while the back is full of black sand. The trees do little to cover the thick, greasy smog filtering through the chimneys of the hastily made building, black ash swept out of the back piling up on the beach. Asra’s mind reels: why here? The Lazaret is where the infected people went. Alya wasn’t infected, why would she be here? All functions stop, thoughts freezing. No- it isn’t possible, it’s not possible. He scrambles out of the boat, urgency and dread clawing his heart with newfound rigor. His feet become soaked when he steps into the water but he couldn’t care less, rushing to the back of the island with frantic moments. His feet sink into the sand as he follows the feeling of dread, finally stopping at a certain place where the feeling overwhelms him. A mound of black ash, piled to his ankles, sits alone in the sea of black. Choking back sobs, Asra drops to his knees and begins digging frantically. Tears fall freely onto the dirt and soot, the grime coating his hands and caking under his fingernails. He digs until his fingers are red, raw and bleeding, blood now joining the tears on the filthy ground. Asra digs until he feels something other than just ash and sand: it was solid, and felt burnt. Asra frantically moves to uncover the object, fresh tears blurring his vision as he sees the charred bones, stained black from the soot and flames. He places a shaky hand over one of the bones and memories flood his mind so fast his head begins throbbing. He and Alya out in the market, the sunlight highlighting the sweet freckles on her cheeks and shoulders, exposed by her white off shoulder shirt. Waking up next to Alya as she sleeps clutching onto his form, mumbling nonsense from her dream. The fondness that flows through him like a river as he catches her creating new clothes or patching up some that have holes. The hurt and guilt that burn him like fire as he fights with her about leaving, the sadness the courses through him as he sees the bags under her purple eyes that have lost their spark, baby pink curls limp and dirty from many nights gone without sleeping or bathing. A painful wail rips from his throat, followed by countless others. His throat eventually feels as raw as his hands and he’s forced to stop screaming, though he doesn’t cease his frantic digging through the area of her charred body. Eventually his fingers brush over a small object, smooth and cool. He picks it up and can barely see what it is through his tears: a small blue gem from Alya’s necklace, though the leather strap was probably burned. A fresh wave of memories washes over him forcefully. The long hours he took to find the right jewel, make sure it the right color. The pure joy and love on Alya’s face as he hands her the finished product, the smile that lights up her face as he slips it around her head and rests the cobalt gem on her breastbone. A sob dies in his throat, skin too raw to attempt to make any sound. He clutches onto the small object with a desperation that fills his entire being, holding it in both hands against his heart. He stays that way for a long time before he begins to slowly, numbly get up from the beach. His joints creak in protest but he can’t find it in himself to care, any protests dying as soon as they come. How could he care, when Alya, his lover, his whole word, was gone? It was all his fault, if he just hadn’t left... Drawing in a shuddering breath, he begins walking back to the front of the island. He had left with an angry, tired lover who he had abandoned, and had come back to find nothing of her left behind. All he could show for his journey this time was bloody fingers, lost love, and a heart shattered beyond repair.


	7. Blood Tainted Tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alya's symptoms are getting worse, as she reminisces over memories.

It’s too hot. Kicking off the blanket, Alya twists uncomfortably on mattress in an attempt to cool herself off. When it does nothing to help her condition, she lets out a harsh breath which leads to a rough coughing fit. 

Wiping the blood off the corner of her lips takes more effort than is necessary for someone healthy; though someone truly healthy wouldn’t have a need to wipe blood from themselves. Alya had been coughing blood so frequently the past week that there was a thin layer of dried blood constantly covering her lips, as well as the area near her eyes. In addition to coughing blood, Alya had also been crying the viscous red liquid as well. 

Swallowing thickly, her thoughts begin to drift again. Her hallucinations had been getting worse, more realistic: if someone were to ask, she would swear that she was just with Julian, working on finding a cure. A cure for the exact plague that she has now. 

Had Julian even noticed? It didn’t seem so, though Alya didn’t really blame him. He was, after all, working diligently at finding a cure. Oh right, a cure. She should be there, helping him, not confined to this bed. Brow furrowing, Alya gathers her strength and attempts to sit up: immediately falling back to the bed exhausted, strength diminished. 

As her eyelids begin sliding over her bloodshot eyes again, her thoughts begin slipping: thoughts of Julian, of the kiss they shared, the job they worked so hard for. To thoughts of Frost, who Asra was taking care of. 

Asra. 

The name itself causes her chest to constrict and her breathing to labor, more so than it had been. Whimpering, memories of soft white hair and vibrant lilac eyes plague her mind and heart. Memories of warm, slow mornings in the shop. The familiar scent of lapsang souchong tea and herbs. The way he held her so gently in his arms, the heated kisses and lingering touches. 

It hurt, remembering: not only because she could never have that again, but because also that it hadn’t only been good memories they had shared. The feeling of hurt and betrayal that rooted deep inside her whenever he left her alone in the shop, of the huge fight they had had right before he left the last time. Was that the last time they would see each other? Would their final memory together be of bitterness and hatred? 

Tears now cascading down her face, Alya soon tastes the unmistakable tang of blood taint the saltiness of her tears.


	8. Lavender Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluffy, slightly angsty morning showing a normal interaction between Asra and Alya a few months after he's revived her.

Warm hands slide over his exposed arm, up to his neck and onto his cheek. He leans into the feeling of a soft thumb gently stroking his skin, sighing softly. It was always nice when she woke him up so softly, showing how much she cared through simple, tender gestures. 

It takes a moment for memories to come flooding back to Asra, any traces left of sleep falling away as he sits up abruptly and turns. He spots Alya, one hand outstretched and eyes wide, having probably startled her. 

“Alya, what are you doing? It’s still early for you to be up.” His voice is deeper and has a slight rasp to it than normal, due to the grogginess of just having been woken up. He barely manages to conceal the pain he feels, knowing she remembers nothing of their time together, and she probably hadn’t known what she was doing. 

He shifts to sit up in a slouched position, leaning on one arm to keep himself propped up while the other rubs at his eye. Alya looks away, cheeks flushing at having been caught, and the sight sends a pang of hurt and longing through the magician. He had seen this sight many times over in the past, and the familiarity caused him physical pain. He hides his emotions with a small smile as she stumbles over her words. 

“I, um...I’m so-sorry, you..uhm, you...I was...curious. Your skin just looked so soft...” It was blatantly obvious that she was telling the truth; she probably didn’t even know how to lie anymore, after losing all her memories. Asra’s had to teach Alya how to walk, talk, and gain motor skills again. 

It was hard sometimes, and very frustrating, because he had her back now: he could hold her, touch her, see her, love her all over again, and yet she was so different than the Alya he had known. She was timid and quiet, the fire she had had before completely gone or warped. Her clothing style had changed, too, the little bit she had right now. She used to wear warrior clothes, a piece of her former home in the south. Now, she wore more airy clothes than the animal skins and furs from before: normally a pair of plain white trousers and one of Asra’s shirts, as she refused to wear anything else. It sent a deep routed sense of longing ablaze within him, especially at the sight of her occasionally smelling the fabric. 

He reasoned that she had no idea why, and that it was just instinct, but it still hurt because she was always so close, and yet just out of his reach. The sight of something as familiar was common, and each time wounded him deeper than the last. He had learned to live with it after the first time, even as each occurrence opened another of his scars. 

Shaking his head softly, he returns himself to the present, as he realizes he still hadn’t given Alya an answer and she was hovering there, looking guilty even though she did nothing wrong. He gives a reassuring smile, hoping to mask the emotions warring in his heart. “It’s fine Ali,” he mentally curses himself for using an old nickname for her. “No harm done. It is early, though.” 

She squirms uncomfortably, murmuring softly, “Couldn’t sleep well... ‘nother baddy.” She had taken up the habit of referring to nightmares as “baddies”, though he had no idea why. He had just let it go, going along with it. “How about I make you some herbal tea? It’ll help you get some more rest.” She nods slowly and Asra begins to get up, the blankets slipping away from his half-dressed form. “I’ll be right back, so just go back to the bed okay?” He speaks gently with her, always treating her delicately. She nods again and slowly stands up, stumbling slightly on her way back to the bed but making it without any mishaps. He lingers only a moment before leaving the bedroom, moving into the kitchen to brew his most beloved a cup of lavender tea.


	9. Sadness and Content

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now a few years after being brought back, Alya is yet again awoken alone in the shop. Lapsang tea and honey help keep her morning from turning sour.

Alya sighs contentedly after stepping out of the hot shower, steam trailing her form. She walks to her shared room with Asra, who thankfully isn't there at the moment.  
She dries off and dresses in peace, silky white fabric loose on her frame.

It was now a couple years after she had first woken up in her master's arms. She could still picture how vulnerable and delicately hopefull he appeared when she opened her eyes. 

Shaking her head softly, she walks out of the room and down the stairs. He hadn't mentioned that time, so she tries not to think about it. Stepping into the kitchen, she smiles softly at the welcoming rays of golden sunlight that come with early morning. Asra was nowhere to be seen, but she wasn't very surprised: he had always taken extended trips away, from the moment she could take care of herself. 

Alya doesn't mind too much, but she won't be lying if she says she enjoys his presence quite a bit. He feels warm and comforting, though she supposes anyone who takes care of you for so long would. 

She walks to the stove and gently coaxes the Stove Salamander to start a fire in the stove. She prepares a cup of tea, the one she remembers is Asra's favorite, though the name always evades her memory. 

Alya's mind calms as she takes sips of the warm beverage. Asra teases her about how much honey she includes, though he's only playing. When he's around, at least, which the time seems to be dwindling the more she's able to do on her own. 

Finishing her cup of tea, she leans back in her chair and sighs softly; a mix of sadness and content.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, sorry it's been such a huge break between updates. I was unmotivated for awhile to continue this story, but I've recently been wanting to write more. Hopefully more frequent updates now ^^


	10. Tears and Tea

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a dreary stormy day, Asra comes back when business is slow. A nice gesture turns to sobs, and tea can't fix it this time.

Alya sighs softly, watching the storm blearily through the window. Due to the rain, business has been extremely low, and Alya is getting bored of just sitting aroud.

After another moment of moping, she huffs and stands, walking upstairs to her shared room. She grabs the materials for bracelet making, sitting on the bed surrounded by pillows and stuffed animals. Alya begins to string together a bracelet, a single jewel surrounded by wooden beads. 

After about an hour has passed, Alya is just putting together her sixth piece of jewelry when she hears the door to the shop open. Getting excited to have a customer, she carefully puts the half finished brecelt down and hurries down, calling a greeting.

Her eyes widen when she gets to the bottom of the stairs. Familiar white curls and violet eyes greet her as she freezes in shock. 

Asra is standing by the door, just turning from putting his soaking coat and hat on the rack when he's brought into a sudden hug. After a pause of surprise, he chuckles and hugs back. "I'm back," he says in that soft voice that Alya loves to hear. "And I brought you something." Asra always brings her something back, perhaps a bit selfishly enjoying how happy it seemed to make her. 

Alya can't keep the grin off of her face as Asra reaches into his bag. She always gets giddy when he comes home with something for her, a comforting feeling washing over her knowing he thinks about her, even so far away and with so many more interesting things. She knows he's just being nice, but it's a very welcome thought, so she continues thinking it.

Asra holds out a small white fox carving, a warm smile on his face. Alya's eyes sparkle as she gently takes it. "It's beautiful.." she breathes softly, looking over it. Asra chuckles softly. "It reminded me of you." He's a master of hiding his emotions, none of the pain he feels when saying this showing through. Alya grins with warm eyes, looking up at him. "Thank you so much, Master..! You remembered how much I like foxes." Asra's smile turns a bit sad, though unnoticed. "Specifically arctic ones," he teases softly. With a nod and a small giggle, Alya agrees. "I'm gonna name him Frost," she says excitedly, smile softening. 

Asra's eyes widen, shock written across his face. Before she can see however, he schools his expression to a smile. "Oh yeah? Why's that?" He hopes the desperation doesn't show through. She shrugs softly, not noticing anything strange. "Dunno, it just fits." Asra chuckles, just a tad forced. "Ah, you're right." His voice is a bit reserved now; noticing this, Alya glances up in concern. "Are you alright, Master..?" Asra quickly waves it off with a smile and a nod. "Just a bit tired from the journey. I hope you wouldn't mind if I went to rest?" 

Alya shakes her head. "No no, I understand! Go rest, we can always talk later." She smiles softly as she answers. Asra nods slightly, then. "Alright. I'll tell you all about it later, I promise." With a smile barely noticably off, he heads up the stairs, smile dropping immediately. 

Entering the room, he changes into dry clothes and places Faust in her bedding area. He had been holding back tears this whole time, breaking down once he had gently removed all the jewelry from the bed and lied down. Breathing heavily through sobs, he muffles his tears into the pillow. He doesn't want to worry Alya, the last thing he wants is to upset her.

Alya slowly creeps away from the door with two cups of tea in her hands, mood dampened. She caught him like this sometimes, crying into the pillows. He always did it only when he thought she wouldn't notice, and he acts completely normal after, so she doesn't bring it up. She can't help but feel it's her fault that her master is crying into the sheets, though she has no reason to believe this. 

Setting the cups down on the table in the back room, she gently grabs the fox carving from Asra. She watches it with downturned eyes, gently stroking along its wooden back, as one would do with a real animal. After a moment she takes a sip of her tea, holding the fox in one hand.


	11. Midnight Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alya gets curious in the middle of the night, begging Asra to teach her something new.

The dark of midnight covers the world like a blanket. The only light in the area is a small candle whose flame causes shadows to dance across the walls. 

The soft sound of pages being turned is the only disturbance to the otherwise silent night in the shop. Violet eyes reflect the candlelight as they scan pages, gentle fingers flipping to the next page. 

Entranced in his book, the magician doesn’t notice as light footsteps stop behind him. “Master?” He looks up then, pulled from his trance within the book. “Yes, Alya?” His voice is soft and quiet as he marks his page and turns to face her. “I’m sorry to bother you so late at night, but I saw you were awake and assumed it would be alright...” she pauses for a moment to gauge his reaction, and continues when he gently gestures for her to speak. “Well, I was wondering if you’d be willing to help me with something?” Her sapphire eyes sparkle with hesitance and excitement, the candlelight causing them to almost glow. 

Asra smiles softly and stands up, gently pushing the chair into the desk. “Help you with what?” At this Alya grins and grabs his hand, rushing downstairs. Asra stumbles for a moment, caught off guard before regaining balance and following. He forces himself not to focus on the feeling of her hand in his, how warm it feels. 

She leads him into the backroom where Asra performs readings with his tarot deck. His eyebrows raise in surprise before Alya begins to speak excitedly. “I wanna learn how to do readings like you! Please teach me, Master.” She grabs the deck and holds out the cards to him, bouncing slightly in anticipation. “Where did this suddenly come from?” He asks as he softly takes the cards and sits down on one side of the table. Alya takes this as a ‘yes’ and hurries to sit on the opposite side. “Well, I always see you doing it and it looks so cool, so I wanna try to.” 

Chuckling softly, Asra begins to shuffle the cards. “Alright, I’ll teach you. It will probably take a decent amount of time to learn though, it’s not easy.” He barely has time to finish his sentence before Alya interrupts. “As long as it takes, I’m willing to learn.” 

Asra first begins by showing her each card and telling her their meanings, patiently repeating each one if she looks confused. By the time they get through the whole deck, Alya looks about ready to pass out. Asra smiles softly and puts the cards away, murmuring, “Let’s continue when you’re not about to fall asleep.” Alya tries to protest but gives up easily, yawning on her way to bed. Asra waits until she’s in bed to pull out the deck again, sighing softly.


End file.
